


The Other Manor

by fairyfeller



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Coraline AU, Gen, based more on the book than on the movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyfeller/pseuds/fairyfeller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Spine finds a strange door, he finds himself in an alternate version of the Walter Manor. But things quite as they seem, and the Spine soon must find a way to save himself and his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“Hey Spine,” said Peter as the automaton walked into Study #8. “Come have a look at this and tell me what you think.”

Walking over, the Spine looked at what Peter was doing. On the desk was a quintet of mechanical mice, each holding a tiny instrument.

“Pretty neat huh? I’ve been working on these all month.” Peter beamed down at the mice, excitement and pride shining through his mask. “So, what do you think?”

“They’re very nice,” the Spine said. “Peter, could I-”

“They’re still not perfect,” Peter continued, scribbling some messy notes into a notebook. “I’m trying to get them to play ‘Oompa oompa!’ but all they can manage so far is ‘Toodle oodle’. They probably just need some practice.” He glanced up at the Spine. “You’re probably wondering why I’m building a bunch of mechanical musical mice.”

“Actually Pete, I wanted to talk to you about GG.”

“Oh.”

“Not that your mouse band isn’t impressive, it’s just… we’re all having a little difficult with her at the moment.”

“Oh really?” Peter pushed the notebook aside and turned to face the Spine properly. “What’s up?”

“GG’s stolen all the cushions from the upper floors, and she’s got them piled up in the library, so half the manor’s in a mess. Wanda is in a state trying to tidy up – she’s already stressed out because she keeps seeing robotic rats everywhere.”

“Well, I’m sure the three of you could give Wanda a hand,” Peter said. “And tell Wanda I haven’t made any rats, just the mice, which certainly aren’t running around anywhere.”

“We’re trying to help, but GG just yells at us when we approach her pillow fort, so the library’s basically a no-go zone at the moment,” the Spine replied. “Anyway, she’s rehearsing for another of her damn recitals by singing down the Wi-Fi, and that’s making it hard to focus.”

“Yes, I thought I could hear singing earlier,” Peter said. “What’s the recital for this month?”

“A mashup between _Chicago_ and _Cabaret.”_

“That should be interesting.”

“That’s not the point! There’s nowhere for anyone to get any quiet except for the gardens. Everyone’s going a little nuts at the moment.” The Spine released a small hiss of steam as he sighed. “It doesn’t help that QWERTY keeps insulting GG’s performance, so half the time they end up in a screaming match until Steve intervenes.”

“Remind me to give Steve a bonus,” Peter said. “Alright, I’ll go talk to GG, get her to stop broadcasting her rehearsals over the Wi-Fi. I don’t know what I can do about QWERTY though, other than turning him off.”

“Thank you, that would be great. You and Steve are the only ones GG listens to.”

“That’s because we’re usually the only ones who bother listening to her,” Peter replied. “You could try to have more patience with GG.”

The Spine was about to make a retort when a cat darted into the room and made a leap for the desk. Swearing, Peter made to grab at it, flinching as it hissed and swiped him with its claws.

“Damn thing keeps sneaking in here and going after the mice. Spine, could you deal with it?”

“Sure thing,” said the Spine, scooping up the cat. “Come on, out you go.”

* * *

The Spine carried the cat through the manor and outside, taking care to avoid the library. It probably wouldn’t take long for the creature to get back inside, especially since there was no front door, but for the moment it seemed more interested in investigating the nearby flowerbeds.

Not wanting to return to the chaos of the manor, the Spine started walking around the gardens, enjoying the quiet.

The manor grounds stretched out the several miles. Peter Walter I had acquired large amounts of property during his lifetime, and while some of the original land had been sold off, most of it remained. The Spine set off north-west, hoping to spend the rest of the afternoon there. There was no GG, no QWERTY, nothing at all to disturb the peace.

He spent around an hour watching the ducks on the cemetery pond, and then wandered past the old tennis courts, the fence broken in places and the nets rotting. They really should do something about that, the Spine mused. It would be nice to play a match again, it had been so long. And maybe they could hire a gardener again; the flowerbeds were overgrown and wild.

He sighed. There were lots of little things that needed doing and would probably never get done; the Walters were inventors, and were generally more interested in the world inside their head than the world outside.

At some point during his walk the cat reappeared and began following him, keeping its distance.

After a couple of hours, the Spine got bored of wandering around aimlessly, and decided to head back towards the manor. On the way back, he saw two familiar figures; Rabbit and Hatchworth were also outside, and were examining an old well.

“Hey Spine, lo-look at-at-at this!” Rabbit exclaimed as he drew near. “Remember this old thing?”

“Sure don’t Rabbit.”

“Sure you do, remem-mem-member when that fox fell in and the third Pete spend a whole day trying to get it out?”

“Do you think there’s anything down there?” Hatchworth asked, peering down into the inky depths.

“Doubt it,” the Spine said. “I don’t think anything could survive that deep.”

“Do you kn-know how far down it goes?”

“Pretty far, I think.” The Spine picked up a couple of pebbles and dropped them into the well. Ten seconds later, there was a distant splash.

Grinning excitedly, Rabbit and Hatchworth gathered their own pebbles and took turns dropping them into the well.

“Hey, look at this one!” Hatchworth said, holding up a stone with a hole through the centre. “Pretty neat huh?”

“Oh wow! Aren’t those ones m-meant to be ma-ma-magic?”

“Really? What does it do?”

“I think it-it-it grants wishes. Isn’t that right Spine?”

“Well, I don’t see how a stone can grant a wish.”

“No, they do,” Rabbit insisted. “At least, I th-think they’re for-for wishes. They either grant wishes or luck. Or maybe they just help you see things. They do-do-do something, I know that.”

Hatchworth gave the stone to the Spine. “Here,” he said, “I’m sure you can find out what the stone is for, and I want you to have some luck.”

“Thanks Hatchy,” said the Spine, putting the stone into his pocket.

It began to drizzle, and the three of them started to walk back to the manor.

* * *

Once inside, the Spine was on his way to the Hall of Wires when he came across something that was very strange for Walter Manor: a door in one of the old drawing rooms.

The Spine stared at it, puzzled. There weren’t very many doors in Walter Manor. Peter Walter VI didn’t like them, not since the accident, and he’d had most of them removed. The only ones left were the ones for bathrooms and the one for the Hall of Wires, and the Spine knew that this door led to neither of those things.

In fact, the Spine had no idea where this door led. He was certain he had never seen it before. True, this was a room he didn’t come in very often, but surely he would have noticed…?

He turned on his Wi-Fi back on, hoping to ask one of the others, but GG was still belting out show tunes, and he quickly turned it back off. No help there.

The Spine tried the door, but it was locked. He thought for a moment. He knew there was a skeleton key somewhere, left over from the pre-accident days, and he was pretty sure it was in one of the old studies. The Spine hurried down to retrieve it.

Returning to the drawing room, he unlocked the door and opened it, revealing a long, dark corridor. No wallpaper or carpet, just bare bricks. A cold breeze seemed to come from it.

Overwhelmed by curiosity, the Spine started walking. And walking. And walking. The hallway stretched on for a long time, longer than he was expecting, before he eventually came to another door.

The door opened to a familiar room. A room that was identical to the one the Spine had just left. And standing with his back turned in the room was a very familiar figure.

The Spine stared at the man in front of him, unwilling to believe what he was seeing. It was impossible.

It was Peter Walter I.

It was Pappy.


	2. Chapter Two

How was this possible? the Spine thought, hardly able to believe it. His creator was right there, looking exactly how he was as a young man. Except…

Except he was taller and thinner.

Except his skin was as white as paper, and just as thin.

Except his fingers were longer than any human should have, and never stopped moving.

And then he turned around, and the Spine could see that he had two large black buttons where his eyes should be.

“Hello the Spine,” said the man who looked like the first Peter Walter. “You’ve finally come.”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me?” the man said. “I’m Peter Walter. I’m your father. I built you.” He stepped closer to the Spine, his hands outstretched.

“No you’re not,” the Spine said, not moving. “The first Peter Walter died nearly fifty years ago.”

“I’m your other father,” said the man, “and this is your other home. I’ve been waiting for you. All of us have.”

“I don’t have an ‘other father’.”

“Of course you do. Everybody has one.” The other Peter Walter took the Spine’s arm. He was almost as tall as the Spine. “You still have so much to learn. Come, let me show you where you'll be staying. I hope you find it comfortable.”

The other Peter Water pulled the Spine away from the door and led him out of the drawing room. They walked down several hallways and up two flights of stairs until they came to a room on one of the upper floors. The Spine was expecting something similar to the Hall of Wires, but instead it was a regular bedroom, with a canopy bed in the corner and a large closet for clothes. Opposite the bed was a large bay window, which was letting in a gentle breeze.

“I made this room for you a long time ago, waiting for your arrival,” said the other Peter Walter. “And now you’re here at last, and we can be a proper family.” He smiled up at the Spine, a smile that was seemed more possessive than kind. “Now, I’ll let you get settled, and if you’re good I will let you play with the rats.”

He was about to leave when the Spine said, “I’m not staying here. Surely you realise that?”

The other Peter Walter paused in the empty doorway. “We will discuss that later,” he said, and left.

The Spine sighed. The day was turning out to be very strange.

He had a closer look at the room he was in. The wallpaper was an off-putting shade of green, but the carpet beneath him was a deep blue, and incredibly soft. When he opened the closet, it was filled with what looked like dressing up clothes, mainly cowboy outfits and accessories, though there was also a wizard’s cape and staff as well as several pirate hats. The bottom shelves were filled with cowboy figurines and memorabilia – more than he had back home, and these ones could move on their own and talk. He walked over to the bed. The mattress was firm, the pillows and bedsheet very soft.

Barring the wallpaper, this was exactly the kind of room he would want if he were human.

He was pulled out his thoughts by a clicking sound. Turning, he saw something dart under the bed. Crouching down, he peered under it, and was meet with two dozen pairs of glowing red eyes.

“Hello,” the Spine said cautiously. “Are you the rats?”

He was answered by a squeak, and a small group of rats came out from under the bed and gathered in front of him. This close, he could see metal joints in their tails and copper in their whiskers.

“Can you talk?” he asked.

They all shook their head.

“Well, what can you do?”

The rats swarmed together into a pyramid, with the largest rat on top. The pyramid collapsed, and they became a cube, a writhing sphere. Then the rats separated, and they all ran, as one, to the doorway.

“I see you’re making friends already,” said the other Steve Negrete - for else could it be with those lifeless button eyes? Certainly not the Steve that the Spine knew.

The rats had climbed up the other Steve and into his clothes; up his trousers and down his sleeves and into his pockets, except for the largest rat, which scuttled up and sat atop the other Steve's head. Soon, the only clue they were there was the rustle of fabric and the occasional strange lump. The Spine tried not to stare too much.

“It’s time for the rats to be fed,” said the other Steve. “Would you like to watch?”

There was something about the way the other Steve - the empty eyes, the expressionless face - that made the Spine uncomfortable. Returning his gaze was like looking into a void. “No thank you,” the Spine said, edging away. “I’m going to have a look around.” He slipped past the other Steve through the doorway and started down the corridor, glad to be away from that stare.

As he explored the other manor, he was struck by how similar it was to the manor he knew. The layout, the carpets, the empty doorways, even the occasional oil stain on the ceiling. It was eerie.

Passing through the kitchen, he found something else that was the same. Sitting at the table, staring at nothing, were Rabbit and Hatchworth. Had they come through to here as well? the Spine wondered. Or were these the ‘other’ versions? His question was answered when they turned in unison to greet him, and he felt his heart sink as he saw two sets of shiny black buttons.

“Hello the Spine,” said the other Rabbit. “Pappy told us you had arrived. We’re so glad that you’re finally here.”

“Yes, welcome,” said the other Hatchworth.

It was unnerving how still they were. The Hatchworth and Rabbit that the Spine knew barely stopped moving or talking while they were awake, were always full of life. But these two were just sitting there, staring at him unblinking and still.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” the other Rabbit said. “And now you can stay here forever and always, and we can be a family.”

“We were about to head towards the theatre,” said the other Hatchworth. “Would you like to join us?

“What’s happening in the theatre?” the Spine asked.

“Rabbit will be performing for us,” the other Hatchworth said.

“Pappy is waiting for us there,” said the other Rabbit. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

They both stood at the same time. The Spine followed them as they walked downstairs and into one of the side rooms off the entrance hall. Apparently even in this version of the manor he wasn’t free from weird recitals.


	3. Chapter Three

‘Theatre’ was too strong a word for the room they were in; there was a stage, and rows of seats, but the whole thing looked as if it had been put together rather hastily. The Spine remembered the old theatre in his manor that had been converted into another lab by the fifth Peter Walter. Was this a version of that?

The other Peter Walter was already there, sitting in the front row. The other Hatchworth and the Spine joined him, while the other Rabbit went backstage.

“Is GG performing as well?” the Spine asked.

“GG doesn’t exist here,” the other Hatchworth said. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

The sentence sent a chill down him. How could GG not be here? Had she been disassembled in this world? Had she not been built? As irritated he was by GG most of the time, he had never wished any harm upon her, or wanted her gone.

Before the Spine could ask anything else, the room darkened. A spotlight shone onto the stage, and Rabbit entered on the left on a unicycle. She had changed outfits; she was wearing one of her older dresses, and her hair was styled in the wired dreadlocks she used to have a few years ago. As she reached centre stage, she leaped off nimbly and bowed low. The buttons in her face glinted in the light. The other Peter Walter and the other Hatchworth applauded enthusiastically. The Spine clapped along politely.

On the stage, the other Rabbit began to sing and dance, and the Spine found himself enjoying it despite his uneasiness.

After thirty minutes of singing, the other Rabbit pulled out a knife from her dress pocket. “Is this a dagger I see before me?” she asked.

“Yes!” called the other Peter and Hatchworth. “It is!”

The other Rabbit tossed the knife into the air and caught it on a finger. “Now,” she said, “for this next part, I’ll need a volunteer from the audience.”

The other Hatchworth nudged the Spine. “That’s you,” he whispered.

Standing up, the Spine climbed up onto the stage and walked to where the other Rabbit was standing.

“A round of applause for our brave volunteer,” she said. Beyond the stage lights, the Spine could hear clapping.

The other Rabbit led the Spine to a target board on one side of the stage, and placed a balloon on top of his hat. She then took several paces back, placed a blindfold over her button eyes, spun herself round several times, and took aim. The Spine didn’t have time to react before the dagger was thrown at him. The balloon popped loudly, and he sighed with relief as the knife landed thudded into the board above his head.

The other Rabbit thanked him, and the Spine left the stage and returned to his seat.

The performance continued with the other Rabbit juggled, sang more songs, and performed a one-robot play. After an hour or so, she took her final bow, the spotlight dimmed, and the curtains closed in front of her. The Spine was surprised by how much he enjoyed it, but during the performance, something had nagged at in the back of his mind, and it wasn’t until he was leaving the theatre with the others that he managed to put a finger on it.

The other Rabbit hadn’t malfunctioned once since he’d been here. Her voice hadn’t even glitched.

He pointed this to out the other Hatchworth, who replied, “Pappy doesn’t like malfunctions, so he fixed her. He wanted this to be perfect for you.”

“The Rabbit I know is already perfect, she didn’t need to be ‘fixed’.”

“Is that any way to speak in front of your creator?” the other Peter Water said sharply. “You might think to show some gratitude, after everything that’s been done for you.”

“But-”

“I will not listen to your arguments.” The other Peter Walter shot one final glare at the Spine before turning on his heel and walking off. The other Hatchworth just shrugged.

Deciding it best to keep out of the way of the other Peter Walter, the Spine decided to have a look outside.

* * *

The rain had stopped, or maybe there was no rain wherever this place was. The manor looked the same on the outside as the one he knew; large, sprawling, with towers sprouting here and there from the roof, and the grounds spreading out beyond.

Sitting on a nearby wall was a cat that was identical to the one he’d seen that morning. It was staring at him, its tail swishing back and forth. “Good afternoon,” said the cat. Its voice seemed to from the back of the Spine’s mind, different than the internal voice he considered his – this one was lighter, richer.

“Hello,” said the Spine, feeling a little strange talking to an animal. “I suppose you must be the other cat.”

“I’m not the other anything,” the cat said. “I’m me.” It jumped down from the wall and stared up at him, its head tilted to one side. “There’s only one of me.”

“But how come you can you talk?” the Spine asked.

“Because I can,” said the cat. It stretched lazily, its gaze not leaving the Spine.

“Cats don’t talk back home.”

“Don’t they?” said the cat as it stretched. “Well, I suppose you’re the expert. What would I know? I’m just a cat.” It turned and began walking off.

The Spine weighed the pros and cons of chasing after it. On one hand, the very notion of a talking cat was ridiculous, as was the idea of running after one to talk. But, on the other, the entire situation he was in was ridiculous, so he might as well make the best of it.

“Wait,” he called. Ahead of him, the cat paused. “I’m sorry. Look, we could be friends.”

“We _could_ be a rare species of copper elephant,” the cat replied, “but we’re not. At least,” it’s gaze darted down the Spine, “ _I’m_ not.”

“Allies, then.”

The cat seemed to consider it. “Allies,” it agreed eventually. “I can do that.”

“Thank you. I think I need one here,” said the Spine. “How did you get here, by the way?”

“The same way you did,” said the cat. “Like this.” It started walking again, tail in the air, and vanished behind a tree. The Spine waited, but it didn’t come out the other side. He walked round the other side of it, but the cat wasn’t there.

Did nothing in this place act normally? he asked himself.

He had turned back towards the manor when a voice from behind him called, “It was a good idea for you to bring protection. You’ll want to keep a hold of it, if you know what’s best for you.”

The cat had reappeared on the other side of the tree. “Protection?” the Spine said.

“Yes. You might -” It jerked round as if startled, stared at something the Spine couldn’t see, then darted away. Sighing, the Sine turned back towards the other manor.

* * *

The other Peter Walter was waiting for him inside. “Did you have a nice time in the garden?”

The Spine shrugged non-committedly.

“I hope you like it here,” the other Peter Walter said. “This could be your home, if you wanted it to be.”

The other Peter Walter reached a hand out and stroked the Spine’s check, who jerked away.  “Please don’t do that.”

The other Peter Walter removed the hand. “I want to make you happy, you know,” the other Peter Walter said, as though nothing had happened. “That’s all I want, for us to be happy together.”

They were walking through the manor, with no particular aim in mind as far as the Spine could tell.

“I'm already happy with the home I have,” he said.

“Are you?” the other Peter Walter asked. “With the endless chaos, the constant noise, the mess? You weren’t made to tidy up after baby giraffes, we both know that.”

The Spine didn’t respond.

“If you did want to stay,” the other Peter Walter continued, “there’s only one little thing we’d need to do, and then you could be here forever and always.” He pulled out two black buttons and a length of wire from his pocket.

The Spine took a step back. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s only a small thing,” said the other Peter Walter. “It won’t hurt you. And then we could all be together, as a family. Wouldn't you like that?”

“What I want,” said the Spine, “is to go home.”

The other Peter Walter pocketed the buttons and the wire with a sigh. “Well, suit yourself,” he said. “You have a think about it, and I’ll be waiting for you when you change your mind.”

Turning, the Spine walked through the other manor until he found the drawing room and the door. He opened it and walked through. At one point he turned back for a moment and could see three figures framed by the doorway, waving at him, but he kept moving forward, until at last he came to the other end, to the manor, _his_ manor.

At last, he was home again.


	4. Chapter Four

The Spine locked the door behind him and turned on the Wi-Fi. None of the others were online, which wasn’t unusual; the robots often popped in and out of the online chat. Even GG was offline. The Spine went off to look for everyone.

Peter wasn’t in any of his studies, nor was he in one of the labs. GG wasn’t in the library performing; her pillow fort had been abandoned. The rain had returned in full force, meaning that Rabbit wasn’t feeding the ducks like she usually was this at this time of the day, but she wasn’t in any part of the manor either, and neither was Hatchworth. Nobody was. The Spine searched every room on every floor, but couldn’t find anyone. Even the Walter Workers and Wanda was gone.

After two hours of looking, he forced himself to stop and think. Hatchworth and Rabbit were known to sneak out of the manor sometimes, so maybe they had simply gone off somewhere. And perhaps Steve had caught them and decided to go along in order to keep an eye on them. That seemed reasonable enough. (But in this weather? Rabbit hated getting her circuits wet.)

But what about Peter? He rarely left the manor these days, unless you counted his trips to the Eighth Dimension. But Rabbit was always saying how much good it would do him to have a day out; maybe she had finally convinced him.

And GG? Had she gone out as well?

Unlikely, but not outside the realm of possibility; she was always saying how much she wanted to leave the manor. Steve was the person she got on the best with, so he could have taken her out somewhere, while Hatchworth and Rabbit went with Peter.

And the Walter Workers? Wanda? Well, it wasn’t unheard of for them to take the occasional day off, and if everyone else had gone….

It was the only explanation the Spine could think of, and since Bebop and QWERTY were offline and wouldn’t turn on, the only thing he could do was wait for them to get back.

He tried reading, but couldn’t focus on the pages, so he paced the library for a while. Eventually, since there wasn’t much else he could do and the day was nearly over, he went to the Hall of Wires and powered his body down.

The next morning, the manor was still empty. Peter’s bed was unslept in, as were the beds for his parents and for Steve. The mound of pillows in the library was untouched, and GG’s singing was nowhere to be heard. Bebop and QWERTY still wouldn’t turn on. The Walter Workers were nowhere to be seen. No one had returned home, if they had even left.

For the first time in over a century, the Spine had no idea where his siblings were.

He spent most of the day walking around the manor in an endless loop, from library to kitchen through all the different studies and back to the library again. At one point he made his way to the subbasements, and saw that even his fallen brother had vanished.

As night fell again with no sign of anyone coming back, the Spine returned to the Hall of Wires, his footsteps falling loud and heavy in the quietness.

He had fallen into stand-by mode instead of powering down, still hoping somebody would return and wake him. Sometime before dawn, somebody did, by batting his face with their paws. Dragging himself awake, the Spine looked down. The cat was in his lap and staring up at him.

“Hello,” said the Spine. “How did you get in here?”

The cat didn’t reply, it just continued to stare up at him.

The Spine stretched, and waited for his hardware to fire up properly. Once his systems were all fully awake, he stood up. “Do you know where everyone is?” he asked the cat.

The cat blinked at him once, slowly.

“Is that a yes?”

Another blink. The Spine took it as a yes.

“Can you show me?”

The cat trotted out of the room and the Spine followed it. It led him down several flights of stairs and stopped in front of a full length mirror on the third floor. The mirror had belonged to the second Peter Walter, and it used to stand in his bedroom. It had been moved countless times since his death, and it now it lived along one of the many corridors.

The Spine looked into it. At first, he could only see his own reflection. But then the inside of the mirror seemed to mist up, and when it cleared, he saw his family, trapped on the other side of the glass.

Rabbit and Hatchworth huddled together to one side, their arms around each other. Peter Walter VI was next to them, his head down and his shoulders hunched. Steve was behind him, holding up GG. They were all waving at him, sad and forlorn.

As the Spine watched, Rabbit stepped closer and breathed on her side of the mirror, writing ‘SU ꟼLEH’ on the condensation. The words faded after a few seconds, and so did the figures in the reflection.

It was a long time before the Spine was able to turn away.

“Where are they?” he asked, the cat. It shrugged, one fluid motion from head to tail, as if to say, _Where do you think?_

“They’re not going to come back, are they? Not unless I help them.”

The cat just blinked at him in reply.

The Spine knew there was only one way he could help them, one place he had to go. He went back to the old drawing room, unlocked the door in the corner, and opened it. The corridor behind it loomed ahead of him, cold and dark.

Robots weren’t made to feel, the Spine knew that. He wasn’t programed with emotions, didn’t have the capacity for them. But looking down into that darkness, he nonetheless felt a cold fear settle in his core.

“Well,” he said finally, “I guess there’s no point waiting around,” and he began walking down the corridor, back to the other manor.

He had no light to guide him, and he had to go mostly by keeping one hand on the wall, half expecting something to jump out at him in the darkness. After walking for what seemed like an eternity – longer than he had walked the last time, he was sure of it – the Spine saw a chink of light ahead of him, and he walked into the other manor.

The other Peter Walter was waiting in the other drawing room. “My Spine,” he said, “you’ve finally returned to me.” Was the other Peter taller now? the Spine thought. Or was he just imagining it?

“What have you done with my family?”

“Nothing. They’re all here,” said the other Peter Walter. “Ready to love you and play with you and make your life better.” He reached a hand up and laid it possessively against the Spine’s check. “My darling Spine. Why did you have to run away?”

The Spine pulled away. “I mean my real family. I know you’ve taken them.”

“Why would I do that?” the other Peter Walter said. “It’s not my fault they decided to leave you. They probably grew tired of you. Not like me. I would never get bored of you, or abandon you.”

“They left because you took them! Let them go.”

The other Peter Walter sighed. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ll show you where they went.”

He led the Spine through the other manor and to the corridor where the full length mirror stood. The other Peter Walter brushed his fingers over the glass, causing it to cloud over. When it cleared several seconds later, it showed the manor from the outside.

In the reflection, it was already daytime. Rabbit and Hatchworth appeared inside the mirror, laughing, and Peter Walter VI followed behind them.

“What a relaxing holiday,” said Hatchworth. “It was such a good idea to go away for a few days.”

“It was especially wonderful not having the Spine with said,” said Rabbit. “He always ruins such events by being boring and not wanting to have fun.”

“And now we can do all the things we wanted in our act without ever having to worry what he would think.”

“I for one,” said Peter, “take great comfort knowing his other father will care for the Spine more than I ever did.”

The scene faded, and the mirror returned to showing the hallway behind them. “You see?” the other Peter Walter said. “Your supposed _real_ don’t really care about you, not like I do.”

“No, I don’t see,” the Spine replied, sounding more sure than he felt. “You’re lying to me.”

A flash of real anger flashed across the other Peter Walter’s face for a moment, and the Spine then knew for certain that the scene in the mirror was just an illusion.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so difficult,” the other Peter Walter said. He sighed again, and took the Spine’s arm. The Spine tried to pull away, but the other Peter held on tight. His long, thin fingers dug into the Spine’s arm. “Please,” he said. “I wish you would let me love you.”

There was a movement from behind them. Turning, the Spine saw the other Hatchworth peek around the corner and slowly come forward. Something small with red eyes and clicking feet was following him. “You’re back,” the other Hatchworth said, beaming up at the Spine. “Pappy said you would be back.”

The other Peter Walter crouched down and spoke to the rat. “Go fetch the key,” he told it, “and bring it to me.”

The rat scampered off, returning a few minutes later, dragging the door key behind it.

“Don’t you have a key on this side?” the Spine asked as the other Peter Walter dropped the key into his pocket.

“There’s only one key,” said the other Hatchworth. “One key, and one door.”

“I don’t think we need to be filling the Spine’s head with such triviality,” the other Peter Walter said. “Now, I imagine it’s been a long day for everyone, so why don’t we all go to bed? Hatchworth, show your brother to his room.” He turned and walked away in the direction of the drawing room. The other Hatchworth took the Spine’s arm and led him up to his bedroom.

“I’m so glad you came back to live with us,” the other Hatchworth said as they walked together. “Rabbit and I were so worried when you didn’t return. But now you’re here again.”

The Spine didn’t reply, and when they reached the room he entered it without a word. The other Hatchworth hovered in the doorway for a moment, before leaving.

Inside the room, the Spine was grateful to see a friendly face. “Hello,” he said to the cat, who was curled up on the bed. “How did you get in?”

“I have my ways,” said the cat.

“You’re talking again then?”

“How fortunate I am,” said the cat as it began to wash itself, “to have an ally with such amazing skills of observation.”

“You know, you could be little nicer,” said the Spine as he joined the cat on the bed. The cat didn’t bother replying.

He sighed, and leant back against the wall. “What does he want from me?” he asked. “My ‘other father’, I mean.”

The cat paused in its grooming. “He wants something to love,” it said. “Something that isn’t him. Or maybe he wants something to eat. It’s hard to tell with creatures like that.” It finished washing itself and jumped down to the floor. “Who knows? Maybe a robot will keep him entertained longer.”

“Well, what am I meant to do?”

The cat flicked its whiskers, as if considering. Then, “Things like him like games, so challenge him. There’s no guarantee he’ll play fair though. Be sure to be on your guard, and be very, very careful.”

The cat jumped up to the open window, and with one last look at the Spine, it disappeared.


	5. Chapter Five

The Spine didn’t power down that night, instead choosing to sit across from the doorway and watch. Occasionally he would see a pair of glowing red eyes dart across. At one point he thought he saw a shadow in the doorway, standing there and watching him without moving, but he couldn’t be certain. He had tried turning on the Wi-Fi, but all he got was an ‘out of signal range’ error.

After a couple of hours, light started filtering through the window as dawn broke, and when signs of movement could be heard from the other manor, the Spine finally moved and made his way downstairs. His water pressure was low, and it made his movements slow and stiff.

Before he went to refill his tank though, the Spine checked the door in the drawing room. It was locked tight, and the other Peter Walter still had the key. No way back now, he thought.

He was about to leave when something caught his eye. He walked to the mantelpiece, frowning. So far, everything in the other manor was the same as in his manor, except for the small box shaped like a house he had just found. As he opened it, music started to play from it, and the two tiny figurines inside began to dance.

The Spine watched them go round, and wound the music box back up when it finished. He played it twice more before putting it back onto the mantelpiece. It was beautiful, but he didn’t understand why it was there. Had it been there last time? He couldn’t remember.

He found the other Hatchworth in the kitchen. He was staring straight ahead of him, not doing anything, but looked up when the Spine entered.

“Where is everyone?” the Spine asked as he walked to the sink.

“Rabbit is in the theatre,” the other Hatchworth answered. “And Pappy is out. He’s fixing all the doors.”

“Doors? I thought there was only one door?”

“One door connecting the manors,” the other Hatchworth said, “but there are other ways in. Pappy’s having trouble with some vermin, so he’s closing them.”

“You mean the rats?”

“No, the rats are our friends,” the other Hatchworth said. “This is the other one, with the long tail and black fur.”

“The cat?”

The other Hatchworth nodded. The Spine noticed that he looked less like the real Hatchworth than he had the night before; the colours in his faceplate were duller, and his face had a slightly flat, lifeless quality to it.

“I wanted to make friends with him,” the other Hatchworth said as the Spine refilled his tank with water. “But Pappy told me that it was dangerous and that I should keep away.” A worried look briefly crossed the other Hatchworth’s face. “I’m not really meant to talk to you while he’s away,” he added. “But once Pappy returns, I will talk as much as you want me to.” He folded his arms in front of him and fell silent. The Spine waited, but the other Hatchworth didn’t say anything.

“Well, if you’re not talking,” said the Spine, “I’m going to have a look around outside.”

“There isn’t anything outside,” said the other Hatchworth. “Pappy didn’t bother making much on the outside. All he focused on was the house.” Then he stopped, as though he had said too much, and held a finger up to his lips, refusing to say another word.

* * *

The Spine walked downstairs and headed outside. The sky was clear and the sun was out, but there was a faint mist covering the ground. He began walking around the other manor, trying to think where everyone could be hidden. But after several minutes walking, he noticed that the world around him was becoming… vague. The nearby trees looked less like trees and more like approximations of trees, the grass had become a vague scribble of green. And the farther the Spine walked, the less real things looked.

And then the mist began to thicken, to the point that the Spine couldn’t see what was in front of him. Except that it wasn’t really mist; mist was damp and cold, while this didn’t feel like anything.  The Spine briefly considered the possibility that he had gone blind, but quickly ruled it out; a quick systems check revealed no errors, and he could see himself fine. But the world around him had dropped away. It was like walking into a blank page.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The Spine looked round for the voice. The was a black shape, but he didn’t know how near it was; with nothing else around him to give a sense of perspective, he didn’t know if it was something large that was far away, or something tiny that was close by. It took his eyes a few moments to focus on the shape.

He smiled when he recognised it. “Hello,” he said to the cat.

It didn’t look particularly happy; its fur was bristled, and its tail was hanging between its legs. “I don’t think it’s wise to stay here,” it said. “This is a bad place. If you can call it a place. What are you doing out here?”

“Looking around.”

“For what?”

“You know what. My family.”

“You won’t find them here,” said the cat. “There’s nothing to find here. He didn’t bother making anything past the manor.”

“Who’s ‘he’” asked the Spine.

“The person who calls himself your other father.”

“I think he’s looking for you,” said the Spine. “Apparently he’s fixing all the doors to this place to keep you out.”

“He can try,” said the cat, a note of pride in its voice. “I know the ins and outs of this world better than he does.”

They continued walking together through the emptiness. Soon, a large, dark shape formed ahead.

“Hey, there’s something out here after all,” said the Spine. “Look, it’s-” He stopped. It was the other manor. He was back where had started. “How is that possible?”

“Imagine walking around the world,” said the cat. “Eventually you end up back where you started.”

“Small world.”

“It’s big enough for his tastes.”

“Maybe I got turned around back there,” said the Spine. “It’s hard to know which way you’re facing when there’s no point of reference.”

The cat swished its tail. “ _You_ may have gotten turned around,” it said, a haughty edge in its voice. “ _I_ certainly didn’t.”

“You know,” said the Spine as they walked to the manor, “there’s something I’ve been wondering. Why isn’t there another version of me running around here?”

“If one of your siblings had come through to here,” said the cat, “there would be. And if it had been that inventor of yours, with the mice and the mask, the bedlam would have taken the form of his father instead of yours.”

They were near the manor entrance now. “Bedlam? Is that who the other Peter is?”

The cat wasn’t listening; it was staring intently at one of the bushes, and in the next moment it had leapt into it, coming out with one of the mechanical rats in his paws.

“I’m not particularly fond of rats,” said the cat. “Especially not these robot ones. _He_ uses them as spies.” It let the rat go, before pouncing on it again. “I could do that all day.”

The cat let the rat run several yards away for catching it again, carrying it off in its mouth and disappearing behind a tree.

“Goodbye,” the Spine called after it, before walking the rest of the way to the manor.

* * *

Everything was quiet inside the manor, and everything was still. Even the Spine’s footsteps seemed muffled. He found himself walking to the tall mirror on the third floor; it had shown him his family before, maybe it could help him again.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and saw the other Peter Walter. “Spine, I’ve been looking for you. I thought we might play some games together.”

The Spine shrugged off the hand. “You’re not in the mirror."

“I don’t believe in reflections,” said the other Peter Walter. “Now, what would you like to play? Or would you prefer a story?”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.”

“You are trying my patience with your ingratitude,” said the other Peter Walter. “You always were the proud one. Still, any amount of pride can be worn away with love.”

“I don’t want your love,” said the Spine. “I want you to let me go, to let all of us go.”

The other Peter Walter sighed wearily. “Come,” he said, “let’s talk about this.” He took the Spine’s arm and led him to a nearby study.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

The other Peter Walter ignored this and sat in one of the armchairs, indicating that the Spine should do the same. He leaned over to the desk in the corner, and pulled out a small paper bag from one of the drawers.

“Would you like one?” he asked, opening the bag and offering it to the Spine.

The Spine peered into it, expecting candy of some kind. Instead, the bag was half full with cockroaches. He recoiled from it in disgust.

“Suit yourself.” The other Peter Walter picked out a large cockroach and dropped it into his mouth. It crunched loudly as he chewed it.

“That’s horrible,” said the Spine.

“Is that any way for you to speak to your father?” the other Peter Walter said. He dipped his hand back into the bag.

“You’re not my father,” said the Spine. “I don’t think you’re even human.”

A look of anger swept over the other Peter Walter’s face. He folded the top of the bag over and stood, looming over the Spine – had he always been so tall?

“I think,” he said, “that you need to learn some manners.” He took a key from the desk – not the one for the drawing room door, but a small, silver one – and grabbed the front of the Spine’s shirt, pulling him out of the chair. The Spine tried to pull away, but the other Peter Walter was stronger, and he pulled the robot out of the room and over to the mirror. “This is for your own good,” the other Peter Walter said, his voice hard. “You must learn manners. You’ll thank me for this one day.”

The more the Spine tried to free himself, the more the grip on him tightened. The other Peter Walter pushed the silver key into the corner of the mirror and twisted it, and the mirror swung outward to reveal a small opening.

“I shall let you out again when you’ve learnt to behave,” said the other Peter Walter, pushing the Spine into the dark space. The Spine fell heavily against the wall of the opening, and felt something snap. “I love you, Spine, please remember that.”

And with that, he closed the mirror, leaving the Spine alone in the darkness.


	6. Chapter Six

The Spine could feel oil leaking from somewhere. He carefully felt along his body, locating a small break on his side where oil was slowly seeping out. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought against it.

He felt around the edges of the space. It was a little smaller than a broom closet, not quite high enough for the Spine to stand fully upright, but wide enough for his exterior spines. Three walls were smooth stone, but the forth was glass.

He tried searching for a doorknob, or a switch, or anything that would help him escape, but there was nothing. Then he spent over an hour yelling, but if anyone heard him, they didn’t, or couldn’t, help.

How long will he keep me here? the Spine thought. Then, How did Hatchworth survive this for six decades?

He carefully slid down until he was sitting. He felt around him again, searching for anything he might have missed. Something crawled over his hand, and he jerked away. But then his fingers brushed against something in the space, something cold and metallic. It had a ghostly quality to it, as if it wasn’t completely there.

And then the Spine heard a soft voice. “No more yelling,” it said in a soft voice. “The bedlam might hear you, and there’s no telling what he might do; he’s already angry.”

The Spine knew that voice. He hadn’t heard it in nearly two years. “The Jon? Is that you.”

“Yes, it’s me and Upgrade! We don’t have much time.”

The Spine’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and in the corner he or thought he saw, two robotic figures. The figures were faint, and he found it difficult to make them out. One of them, the gold robot in the top hat, he knew was the Jon; he was meant to be powered down in the basement. But he didn’t know who the pink robot was. She was familiar, but she wasn’t in any of his memory files.

“How come you’re here?” the Spine asked in a whisper.

“The bedlam is elsewhere, focusing on the others,” said the pink robot – the Jon had called her Upgrade. “We were able to project ourselves to you while he wasn’t looking.”

“We don’t know how long we can do this,” said the Jon. “It takes a lot of energy, and he might find us.”

“Can the others come as well?”

“He’s trapped them inside the bodies of their others,” said the Jon. “They can’t break through. But there’s no others of us here, so it’s easier for us to slip past him.”

“Do you know what this place is?”

“He made it,” said the Jon. “Created it and attached it to ours to lure somebody in.”

“You must flee!” said Upgrade. “Flee while you can, or he’ll trap you as well.”

The Spine shook his head. “I tried leaving, and he took you all away. I can’t go until I’ve found everyone.”

“He won’t let any of us go, not when he can feed on our souls for all eternity.”

Do robots have souls? the Spine thought. Apparently they did.

“I’ll find a way to free you,” said the Spine. “There’s got to be a way.” The loss of oil was taking its toll, and he thought it wise to power down for a couple of hours to conserve energy. “I don’t think he’ll keep me in this mirror for long. ‘Games and challenges’ is what the cat said, and he can’t play with me if I’m stuck in here.”

There was a silence, and then Upgrade spoke up again. “Maybe you could win us back,” she said. “Win back our souls.”

“Yeah,” piped the Jon. “You could beat him! You’re cleverer than he is! You could win any game.”

“But will he let us go if I do?”

The other robots fell silent. The Spine sighed.

“In any case,” he said, “there’s no point in me wasting more energy. Will you two stay with me?”

“For as long as we can,” said Upgrade.

As the Spine powered down, he felt two ghostly kisses on each cheek, and a voice in his ear whispered, “The stone will show you the way.”

* * *

The Spine powered back up several hours later. He blinked several times, trying to get his bearings. He wasn’t inside the mirror anymore; he was in another study, laying on a metal worktable. The day had past, and it was morning again. For a moment he wanted to believe he was back home, that the past few days was the result of some glitch or virus. But then the other Peter Walter entered the room, and he knew he was still trapped in the alternate manor.

The other Peter Walter picked up some tools. He had stanched the oil leak, and began repairing the tear in the Spine’s side. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, pausing to replace some of the wiring. “You see what happens when you make me angry?”

The Spine didn’t reply.

“I’m glad that unpleasantness is out of the way,” the other Peter Walter continued. “I don’t like having to punish you like that, but you needed to be taught a lesson. I hope you’ll remember it in the future and mind how you act. And if you behave yourself and love me the way a father should be loved, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

He fell silent as he focused on his work. The repair didn’t take long, and the Spine carefully sat up once it was complete. The other Peter Walter cleaned the tools and tidied put them away. “There. Don’t ever say I don’t take care of you.” He left the room, returning several minutes later with oil and water to refill the Spine with. “Now,” he said, “you have a fresh start ahead of you. What do you want to do today?”

“You like games,” said the Spine after a few moments.

“As much as any person,” the other Peter Walter replied.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to win me properly? Fair and square?”

“Possibly.” He sounded uninterested, but the Spine could see the way his fingers twitched, the way his black button eyes glinted. “What exactly are you offering.”

“Me,” said the Spine. “If I lose, I’ll stay here forever. I’ll be a loyal son to you. I’ll let you love me, play with you, and I’ll let you install buttons into my eyes.”

“That sounds most delightful,” said the other Peter Walter. “And what if you don’t lose?”

“Then you let us go, let all of us go. Everyone from the manor who you’ve trapped.”

“That’s certainly an interesting gamble,” said the other Peter Walter. “And what kind of game would we be playing?”

“Hide-and-go-seek.”

“And what, exactly, would you be seeking?”

“You know what. My family. Everyone’s souls.”

The other Peter Walter seemed to consider it. “I think,” he said, “we should make it more interesting. How about a time limit?”

“How long were you thinking?” asked the Spine.

“Let’s say twenty-four hours. If you don’t find them all by then, you stay.”

The Spine thought about it. “Deal,” he said eventually. The other Peter Walter smiled triumphantly, and the Spine wondered if he was doing the right thing. But what other option did he have?

* * *

The Spine began his search in the study; he rummaged through drawers, looked under chairs, riffled through papers.  What did a soul even look like? he wondered. How big were they?

The other Peter Walter leaned against the wall and watched him, tapping one long finger against his eye. the sound was as steady as the tick of a clock. Then the Spine looked up and realised the sound _was_ just a clock, and that the other Peter Walter had vanished.

The Spine was unnerved by this; if the other Peter Walter wasn’t here, then he could potentially be anywhere.

The Spine continued looking, glancing behind him every so often.

There was no point searching the grounds, he decided, he had already established there was nothing out there; no crumbling tennis courts, no cemetery, no well. But the manor was huge. He could easily send a day walking through it without finding what he was looking for.

As he walked through the manor, he passed the mirror again, and something in it caught his eye. In the reflection stood the Spine, looking slightly worse for wear in his oil-stained waistcoat. But in the pocket of his waistcoat, something was glowing. He slipped his hand inside and his fingers touched the stone that Hatchworth had given him.

He pulled it out and looked at it. Good luck, Rabbit had said, and the cat had mentioned protection. And there was that whisper from the mirror…

He held the stone up to one eye and peered through the hole in it. In the mirror, he could see a faint trail of faint green smoke drift behind him.

The smoke could be seen in every reflective surface if he looked through the stone. The Spine followed it up to his room. There, he pulled out everything in the closet, everything lying under the bed, upturned every drawer, and piled it all in the centre of the room. When that was done, he peered through the stone again.

Through the stone’s hole, the room was varying shades of grey. He shifted through the heap on the floor, hoping to find something, and a splash of colour jumped out at him. He groped after it, his other hand closing around something small and smooth. The Spine pulled it out and looked at it; it was a bright vivid pink. Then he lowered the stone. It was a marble, and as he held it he could hear a voice whisper in his ear, the voice of the pink robot from before.

“You found me! Oh, but you must hurry! There’s still four of us left, and the bedlam is furious you found me so quickly.”

The Spine carefully placed the marble in his pocket, and left the room.


	7. Chapter Seven

Out in the corridor, he was blown back by a gust of wind. The Spine tried to keep moving forward, but the wind grew stronger, and he had to fight for every step. The wind was bringing sand with it, which bit into the Spine’s skin and filled his vents. He couldn’t see, could barely move as the sand grew thick around him.

“Stop it!” he managed to shout through the storm. “Play fair!”

The sand swirled around him for several moments more before the wind finally dropped, bringing an echoing silence after it. The Spine quickly cleared his vents and moved on; he had a lot of rooms to look through and not much time. He looked in every reflective surface he past, but there were no more glowing trails to be seen; he was on his own again.

The Spine went floor by floor, methodically searching each room using the stone. It was a long process, and after five hours he still hadn’t found another soul; he had seen no bright flash of colour through the stone’s hole, only grey. Eventually he reached the ground floor and entered the theatre.

It was messier than the last time he had been in there. The seats were broken and torn, dust had settled on every surface, and all the lights had been broken, leaving the place in darkness. The Spine peered through the stone, looking for the tell-tale flash of colour. He could see something glimmering at the back, and he carefully made his way towards it.

He climbed up onto the stage, and pulled back the curtain. Behind it, he could make out a shape in the gloom. It looked like it had been wrapped in a thick spider’s web. Beneath the web, he could just make out the frozen figure of the other Rabbit. Through the hole in the stone, the Spine could make out two glowing balls of colour inside her clothing; one silver, one copper.

The Spine wondered what would happen when he went to grab them. Would the other Rabbit come alive? Would she scream? Would he be engulfed in the spider’s web as well?

Steeling his nerves, he dug his hand into the web. It was cold, and clung to his arm as he pushed in further. He pushed upwards until he came to the other Rabbit’s hand, which was closed tightly around something.

The fingers were locked tight around two marbles. Slowly, one by one, the fist loosened, and the souls rolled into the Spine’s hand. As he held them, he could hear GG’s singing, could hear Rabbit’s old accordion. He pocketed them, and as he turned, a hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

“Stop!” the other Rabbit screamed. “Give them back!”

The Spine wrenched himself free, and the other Rabbit’s arm tore off. The Spine pulled it off and it clattered to the floor, and the light in the other Rabbit’s power core dimmed as she fell still once more.

The Spine turned and ran off the stage.

* * *

Outside the theatre, the other Peter Walter was waiting. He had grown taller and thinner, as if he’d been stretched out. The rest of the manor had become vague; it looked like a drawing of the manor, and a bad one at that.

The Spine’s arm was covered up to the elbow in sticky cobwebs. He did his best to clean it off.

“I’ve already got three of the souls,” the Spine said.

“Yes,” said the other Peter Walter, his voice icy, “you’ve done very well.” He paused, making an effort to smooth out his features. “I do love you, Spine.”

The Spine nodded. “I know.” It was love, of a sort. But it was a selfish kind of love. He knew the other Peter Walter didn’t see him as a person, but as a possession, a plaything that could be discarded, a pet that refused to obey. “But I don’t want your love. I never did.”

“Well, what about a hint?” said the other Peter Walter. “You’ve done well to find those souls so quickly, but you’ll never find the rest on your own.”

“I’m doing well on my own, thanks,” the Spine replied. “Anyway, you’ve already tried to slow me down once, so I don’t see why I should trust you.”

“Because I care for you, and want the best for you.” The other Peter Walter reached up to his mouth, gave a deep rattling cough, and pulled out a brass key. “This will let you into the subbasements. You won’t get in on your own.”

He offered the key to the Spine, who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it. The key had a cold, slimy feel to it.  “Why would you help me?” the Spine asked.

“Because the sooner you finish looking and give up on this silly game, the sooner we can live together.”

There was a sudden burst of wind from outside, and the other Peter Walter had gone.

* * *

There were ten sublevels to the basements, which included a workshop, a laboratory, and the vaults, all of which could be accessed by an elevator near the back of the manor. There were stairs, but the elevator, currently blocked off by chains and a padlock, was the easiest way to get up and down.

The Spine unlocked the padlock with the key and pulled the chains off, and the elevator doors hissed shut as he entered. He could hear the souls urging him not to go down, that the bedlam couldn’t be trusted, and he agreed with them, but he didn’t know where else to go. He had searched most of the manor already, and he still had the souls of Hatchworth and the Jon to find, as well as the souls of the humans. He had plenty of time left, nearly eighteen hours, so he figured he might as well see if there were any clues underground.

The elevator rattled to a stop and the Spine got out. The lights weren’t working, so he turned on his infrared and began his search, half expecting something to jump out at every corner.  It was so quiet; he imagined he could hear the dust resettling as he walked.

It took nearly an hour to search each sublevel, and he was aware of each second that past. He found no souls, and no clues as to where else he could look. Had he been sent down here to waste time?

After looking through everything on the last floor, he was about to give up and go back to the elevator when he heard a faint noise from somewhere. He paused, listening, and heard it again; a faint whimper coming from inside the vault.

He pushed open the vault door and looked inside. It was mostly filled with rubbish; old pieces of electronics, piles of damp notebooks, half-completed inventions. In one corner was something that looked like a puppet.

But underneath some of the clutter, the Spine could make out a shape lying under it. He pulled away some boxes wet with mildew until he could make out the body. A soft blue light emanated from its chest, as well as a moan of pain. As the Spine crouched by it, it seemed to come to life, its upper body slowly rising until it was sitting upright.

It took the Spine several seconds to realize it was the other Hatchworth.

He barely looked like the real Hatchworth anymore; the orange had been drained from his face, leaving it a pale, doughy colour, and most of his mustache had been torn away. He only had one button eye, and exposed wires hung from his empty socket.

“Hello the Spine,” said the other Hatchworth, his voice glitching and distorting. “What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for the remaining robot souls,” the Spine replied. “Or one of the human’s.”

“There’s nothing down here to find,” said the other Hatchworth. “Only things that are old and forgotten, things the bedlam made and discarded.”

“Did he leave you in here?”

The other Hatchworth nodded. “I told you too much. And he tends to take things out on us when he gets angry.” He grimaced, and flinched away from the Spine. “You should go, while you still can. He knows you’ve found me, and-” His face was twisted in pain. “He wants me to stop you, to keep you here until the time’s up. I can feel him pushing me to hurt you.”

The Spine stood and slowly edged away. “Fight it, Hatchy. I know you can do it. Be brave, be strong.”

The other Hatchworth clutched at the wall behind him, struggling for several moments before he was able to stand. “I… I can’t.” And he lunged towards the Spine.

The Spine managed to dodge out of the way, but only just. The other Hatchworth skidded to a halt and turned, ready to lunge again. With only a moment to act, the Spine reached out and tore off the remaining button eye, sending it flying into the gloom. The other Hatchworth let out a howl of anguish and clutched at his face, before charging at the place the Spine had stood.

But the Spine had already backed out of the vault and was slowly edging back to the elevator, trying to make as little noise as possible. He kept his eyes on the other Hatchworth, who had paused, head tilted to one side, listening. The Spine continued to shuffle backwards, and was nearly at the elevator when his foot collided against a pile of debris that knocked him off balance, causing him to crash down to the floor. Turning, the other Hatchworth moved towards the noise, his arms outstretched.

Before the other Hatchworth could get any closer, the Spine kicked his legs from under him. The other Hatchworth crashed to the floor with a groan of pain. Scrambling up, the Spine hesitated for a moment before sending his fist down into the other Hatchworth’s chest, breaking his core. The blue glow in his chest dimed and faded, and the other Hatchworth fell still.

There, in the shattered remains of his hatch, was a small marble, glowing a bright fiery orange through the gaze of the stone. The Spine pocketed it, whispered “I’m sorry Hatchy,” and turned to leave.


	8. Chapter Eight

The elevator refused to open. With no other way out, the Spine was forced to walk up fifty-odd flights of stairs to reach the ground floor. It took nearly two hours for him to reach the ground floor, and as he ascended, the walls became blurred and disjointed. When he finally reached the ground floor of the other manor, the stairwell to the subbasement was filled with the same fog he had seen outside.

His water tank was nearly empty. He searched for a place to refill it, but the kitchen had gone; the hallway that led to it simply looped back around.

The Spine was still shaken from his encounter in the vault. The way the other Hatchworth had looked lying there, broken and lifeless…. He shuddered. He knew that nothing in this place was real, that everything was simply a twisted mimic created by the other Peter Walter, but he had still torn out his power core. 

A thought occurred to him as he searched fruitlessly for a water source. Nothing in the other manor was original, they were just distorted copies of everything from the real manor. But if that were true, why was there a music box in the drawing room?

Something caught his eye as it darted across the corridor, distracting from his train of thought; a flash of red amongst the otherwise dull surroundings. It was one of the rats. The Spine followed it as it scurried from room to room, until he found himself in a bedroom on the top floor. In the real manor, this would have been Steve’s room.

“Hello, the Spine,” said a voice like dried leaves. “I know what you want, the Spine.”

Dozens of red eyes watched him as he entered. The room was filled with the sound of rustling and metal clicks, and shadows were gathered in every corner. In the centre was the other Steve Negrete, staring straight ahead. The Spine pulled out the stone and peered through the hole; in the folds of the other Steve’s clothes, something glowed, something golden.

“Nothing will change,” said the other Steve. “If you go home, so what? Nothing will change. You’ll still be frustrated, and sick of the noise, with never any peace. So why leave here?”

“Why would I want to stay?”

“You would have everything you ever wanted,” the other Steve told him. “Your every wish would be granted, your every desire would be given to you. He would make entire worlds for you. and would tear them down again if you grew bored. And each day will be better than the one before.”

The Spine slowly edged closer. “Will there be boring recitals I have to sit through?” he asked.

“Never! Everything will be catered to only you!”

“And will there be days when I can’t get anything done because of fighting and mess and noise?”

“You won’t have deal of that,” said the other Steve. “No noise except the noises you want. You could have whole worlds to create for yourself, or have all the quiet you desire.”

“But I don’t want any of that,” said the Spine. “Not really. I get frustrated sometimes, yes, and I sometimes wish for a bit of quiet, but I love the way things are at the manor, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.” He was still moving closer, wondering how he was going to get the last soul. Could he use something to poke the other Steve with? “Anyway, what would be the point of getting everything I want all the time? Life would get boring.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said the Spine. He was an arm’s length away from the other Steve. “You’re just a bad copy of our sound engineer.”

The other Steve looked up at him, his button eyes flashing dully. “I’m not even that anymore.”

The Spine reached out, and was about to slip his hand into the layers of clothing, when the other Steve said, “He can make you human.”

The Spine paused, his fingers still outstretched.

“Isn’t that what you want?” the other Steve asked. “What you’ve always wanted?”

“What I want,” said the Spine, “is my family,” and he plunged his hand into the other Steve.

The other Steve crumbled, his clothes falling apart and scattering rats. The Spine groped for the marble, but it slipped through his fingers and fell, rolling across the floor before being picked up by one of the rats. It scurried out of the room, and the Spine ran after it.

Rats are, generally speaking, faster than humans over short distances. But a rat holding a marble in its front paws has a disadvantage against a determined robot running at full sprint.

The Spine kept his eyes on the large rat as it ran through the hallways and around corners. Smaller rats darted underfoot, and he did his best to kick them aside. As he ran, he noticed how the manor was still changing, becoming less distinct; everything was drained of colour, the perspective of the hallway was wrong somehow. He pulled his focus back to the rat. He was chasing it down a flight of stairs, he was nearly –

He skidded on something, tilted too far forward, and fell, landing with a hard crunch at the bottom.

He lay there stunned for several minutes, checking his systems for damage. His left arm, which he had thrown out to cushion the blow, had fractured in several places and was leaking oil. There were several other minor cracks along his body, also leaking. What little water he had left was now gone. He slowly stood up with a wince, one arm hanging uselessly by his side, and carefully checked his pockets. He still had the stone, and the three marbles he had found, but he’d lost sight of the rat as well as the final soul.

There was a cough from behind him. He turned, and saw the cat sitting a few feet away. In front of it was the scattered remains of the metal rat.

“I believe I have said,” said the cat, cleaning its paws, “that I’m not terribly fond of rats at the best of times.” It finished grooming and nudged the marble. “I believe you were looking for this?”

“Yes,” said the Spine. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

As he picked up the last marble and put it with the others, he heard the Jon’s voice whispering urgently in his ear. “He’s lied! He won’t let you go! He won’t let any of us go; not now, not ever.”

Four souls collected, with only the humans left to find. And the Spine knew just where to find them. If he had thought about it for more than a moment, he would have known all along.

“We need to hurry,” he said to the cat. “I don’t trust the bedlam to keep his promise to let us go.”

“I don’t either,” said the cat. “Creatures like that-” It stopped, its fur standing on end. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

The cat was hunched forward, its tail swishing back and forth unhappily. “They’ve gone. All the ways in and out of here have flattened.” It backed up until it was pressed up against the Spine’s legs. “The only way out,” it said, “is through that door. And the bedlam will no doubt be guarding it.”

“We’d better get going then.” The Spine scooped the cat up awkwardly with one arm. “Come on, before the rest of the place disappears.”

* * *

The Spine walked up to the drawing room and entered. As expected, the other Peter Walter was waiting there, reclining in one of the chairs. Only he didn’t look like Peter Walter anymore. His body was stretched and elongated, his head brushing the ceiling of the room, and his face was twisted into a grimace of anger. He wondered how he could ever have mistaken this creature for his father.

“Well, you’re back,” the other Peter Walter – the bedlam - said, glaring at the Spine. “And you brought vermin with you.”

“No,” said the Spine, “I brought a friend. And we’re ready to leave.” The cat was tense in the Spine’s grip, and he could feel it trembling.

The bedlam drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair. “And what makes you think I would let you leave?”

“Because that was the deal,” the Spine answered. “That was the game. I’ve found all the souls. I’ve won.”

“No,” said the bedlam. “No, you have not won.” He stood up and began pacing. “You’ve done well to find those four souls, I’ll grant you that. But you’ve yet to find the souls of the others, and your time is almost up. And when it is up, my Spine, you will have lost.”

“I may not have the other souls yet,” said the Spine, “but I know where they are.”

“Do you now? And where would that be?”

“They’re not in the manor,” said the Spine. “I’ve looked everywhere, and they’re not here. So there’s only one place they can be.” He pointed to the door in the corner. “They’re in the passageway between the manors. You hid them there after I came back.”

“Are they? Is that what you think?”

“Yes,” said the Spine. “Open it, and we’ll see.”

It was a long shot, but the Spine was sure it would work. The bedlam didn’t just want to win, he wanted to _show_ that he had won and gloat.

The bedlam pulled out the key and walked over to the door, unlocking it with a _clunk._ The Spine did his best to calm the cat, who was shifting nervously in his arm. Nearly there, the Spine thought. Nearly home.

The bedlam pulled the door open, and a cold gust of wind blew from the dark passageway. “There!” said the bedlam gleefully, gesturing to the empty space behind the doorway. “They’re not there. You don’t know where any of them are, do you?” He slammed the door closed. “Now, you’re going to stay here for-”

The Spine lifted the cat up and threw it at the bedlam’s face. It landed, hissing and spitting, and dug its claws into the bedlam’s face. The Spine quickly turned and grabbed the music box off the mantelpiece before running to the door. He yanked it open and grabbed the key from the lock. “Leave him!” he called to the cat. “Come on! Hurry.”

The cat swiped at the bedlam one last time, leaving a gash that leaked a black liquid that looked like tar, before jumping down in front of the Spine and running into the passageway. The Spine followed it, and tried to close the door behind him. It was heavy, and moved slowly. After a few seconds, he felt something begin to pull from the other side.

“Come on!” he muttered. “Just close already dammit!”

He became aware of other people in the corridor behind him, indistinct shapes in the corner of his vision. He said hands close around his, three pairs of robot ones, two humans, helping him to pull the door closed.

“You can do this,” whispered a voice in his head. Then, “C-c-come on ya big dummins, keep pu-pulling!”

And then he heard a voice that sounded like Peter, the sixth Peter, saying, “Well done Spine,” and that was enough. The door slipped forward easily.

“No!” screamed a voice from the other side. Something tried to reach through the closing gap, but with one final tug, the door snapped closed. The Spine heard something crunch and drop to the floor.

“We should leave here, and quickly,” said the cat. “This is not a good place to linger.”

The Spine agreed, and he turned and ran through the corridor, his good hand on the wall to help keep balance. He could hear the cat running alongside him, but there was something else as well, something small that ran under his feet and nearly made him trip. He caught himself on the wall at the last moment, and kept running. He could feel himself overheating, his boiler desperate for water. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he thought he could see figures running with him, faint and glowing silver. Ahead of him was a small patch of light, growing larger with every step. He ran towards it, wondering why the journey back was so much longer than the previous ones.

Finally, he ran through a doorway and entered the manor. The real manor, his manor. Home.

He slammed the door behind him and locked it, before collapsing to the floor in front of it. Error messages flashed before of his eyes, telling him he was overheating, that his oil levels were low, that his systems were failing.

The music box slipped from his fingers, and he shut down.


End file.
